


Asking for a Friend

by someofthissomeofthat11011



Category: Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someofthissomeofthat11011/pseuds/someofthissomeofthat11011
Summary: After Simon is outed, Bram approaches him, claiming his friend is Blue, but is too nervous and shy to talk to Simon himself. Will Simon remain utterly oblivious or will he realize the truth?
Relationships: Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 123





	Asking for a Friend

“Hey.” Bram’s voice is so soft that, at first, I think it’s being directed towards someone else in the hallway. But he’s standing in front of me, and the hallway is relatively empty. Unlike between classes when our classmates tend to loiter and delay going to class, most rush to beat the line in the cafeteria and make the most of their limited free time. I usually would be one of them, but I’ve been having a day. Since that football player pretended to kiss me this morning, all I’ve wanted is some alone time.

I squeeze closer to my locker, thinking that I’m somehow in his way, but he makes no move to pass me. “Uh… hi?” I think my worry is apparent on my face, but I can’t help myself. This is the first time that Bram has ever initiated a conversation with me, and after this morning, I can’t help the fear that I’m about to discover a very ugly side of Bram. Why else would he be in the hallway and not in the cafeteria eating lunch?

For a moment, I have this irrational fear that he’s going to try to kiss me. I’m imagining a group message where all the jocks in the school conspire to prank me in the same way. I immediately push that thought away. I don’t think I’m important enough to merit something like that. Plus, Nick would have told me. And… maybe I’m stereotyping quiet kids, but I can’t imagine that someone who is so careful with what he says is going to waste his words being meaninglessly homophobic.

At least, that’s what I’m choosing to believe.

At the same time, I don’t know what else he could possibly be doing here. Why would Bram Greenfeld, of all people, be standing next to me?

He gets distracted by something down the hallway and I follow his gaze. I internally recoil when I see that same football player from earlier. When he sees me looking at him, he winks and pretends to hump the air. I don’t know what his goal is. For a moment, I’m numb. I don’t even know his freaking name; he doesn’t even really know me. He just knows about Martin’s fucking post on creeksecrets and that’s apparently enough. “How do you like that, Spier?” he asks. His voice carries down the mostly empty hallway. I’m not sure if it’s echoing in the hallway or just inside my head.

It carries enough that Ms. Knight ducks out of the guidance office to see what’s going on. I almost feel joy at the rage on her face. “My office, Mr. Jacobs. Now.”

Even from where I’m standing, I can see the horror on his face. I’m grateful that his locker is near the guidance office and that Ms. Knight just happened to be in guidance because this is some freaking well-deserved karma. I’m almost laughing at how small the giant football player looks being shepherded to the main office by little Ms. Knight. It’s probably the best thing to happen all day.

I don’t remember that Bram is standing by me until I turn to shut my locker. “Oh. Did you need something?”

“I… yeah, actually.” He looks really flustered, and his eyes are still on the spot where that football player had been standing.

“And that would be?” I’m starting to get annoyed. What does he want? The longer he goes without saying something, the more certain I become that he’s building himself up to do something homophobic. “Okay. Well, good talk. I’ve got to get to lu–”

“I know who Blue is,” Bram interrupts. He finally looks at me and I don’t know what I look like, but I’m pretty sure I’m a shocked mess. Half of me thinks I’m about to have another situation, like with Martin, except with Blue’s identity on the line, and I have no freaking clue what I did to deserve this. As quickly as the dread fills me, it’s exterminated. “Blue is my friend. After you were outed, he got really scared. He’s kind of torn between whether or not he wants to tell you who he is, but he’s worried you won’t like him once you find out. He asked me if I’d talk to you and get to know you.”

I have a problem with staring in the first place and if Bram’s uncomfortable shuffling is any indication, I am outdoing myself right now. I don’t know much about Bram, but I know he mostly keeps to himself. With one exception. Garrett Laughlin.

My mind is spinning. It can’t be; it just can’t be. It would explain why Blue is nervous about telling me who he is. Garrett is absolutely nothing like Blue comes across in his emails. At school, Garrett is practically a class clown. He’s outgoing, just as oblivious as I am, and walks to the beat of his own drum as my mom would say. He’s the exact opposite of the quiet, thoughtful Blue I always pictured in my head. Is it possible that behind his school persona is my Blue? I’ve got to know. “Is Garrett Blue?” I ask.

“Garrett?” At least Bram looks genuinely surprised. But is he surprised that I guessed correctly? Or surprised because it’s not Garrett? He could also just be a superb actor and could be trying to hide Garrett’s identity. “Why would you think he’s Garrett?” It doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t actually answer me.

“Well, you said Blue’s your friend, and the only person I’ve ever seen you talk to is Garrett,” I explain.

“I have other friends,” Bram mutters bitterly. I get the idea that I kind of offended him, so I backtrack.

“I’m sure you do,” I assure him. “I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t. I don’t pick up on a lot, so it’s not you; it’s me.” Bram still looks a little upset. “I mean it. I’m really freaking oblivious.” Bram chuckles nervously. “So, it’s not Garrett?” He hadn’t said no before, and I really need that confirmation.

“No. It’s not Garrett,” he tells me.

I’m going to choose to believe that because the relief I feel right now makes me feel weirdly giddy. I try not to let Bram see how relieved I am because I don’t want word to get back to Garrett. I’m pretty sure he would be offended if he found out. 

“What exactly does Blue want? He just wants you to get to know me and… what? You’ll decide whether he might like me in person?” It seems really weird to me, and for some reason, I can’t picture Blue doing that. He’s usually much more direct than that.

“Not quite. I think he’s under a similar assumption that I don’t have enough friends,” Bram explains. He wrinkles his nose a little as if he disagrees. “He can’t picture being with you if you and I can’t get along as friends.”

When he explains it like that, I guess it makes sense. It definitely doesn’t make me feel like I’m being scoped out as much as it originally had.

“Okay. I’m in. So how do we do this?” I ask.

“Are you asking me how to be friends?” Bram asks.

I can’t help but laugh. I’ve suspected from the way he smiles to himself that Bram can be funny, but he really has this quiet sense of humor. I feel the tension dissipate. “Do you want to do homework after school or something? I have play rehearsal, but I’ll be free after that. Or is that too late for you?”

“No, actually. That’s perfect. I have soccer practice after school anyway.”

That’s right. I know Nick has practice, and I know Bram does soccer but somehow, I didn’t put the two together to realize that would mean Bram has practice. Bram quickly gives me his number. “Text me when you’re done with play practice.”

By the time we get to lunch, we don’t have a ton of time to eat. It’s weird. I expect lunch to be the hardest time of my day, but Abby and Leah are like guard dogs, so no one’s getting to me right now. Though, I could do without the whole who-would-make-a-good-boyfriend-for-Simon conversation.

I’m inexplicably nervous the second half of my day. Maybe it’s because the last time I made something resembling a friend, he blackmailed and outed me. Though, I’m not sure if that counts. Sure, we had a lot of fun at Waffle House, but can you really be friends with someone if your whole relationship started with blackmail?

After school, I make a point of avoiding Martin. He tries to come up to me, but I feign that I need to grab something from my locker and by the time I get back, we’re setting up for the pickpocket song. It’s kind of exciting because we’re working without scripts now (I don’t have any lines, so this in no way affects me, but there’s this nervous-excited energy throughout the rest of the cast today). We’re halfway through the song when Martin just stops singing.

I expect Ms. Albright to yell at him or ask why he stopped singing until I hear Abby say, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Then, I’m aware that people are glancing at me and then looking away quickly. Some are pointedly looking down at the stage, so they don’t have to look at me.

It takes me an embarrassingly long time to see what everyone else is seeing. There are two random guys in the back of the auditorium. I’m pretty sure that they were in my health class last year. I’m focusing on how I know them because then I don’t really have to process the signs they are holding. I don’t have to think about the fact that one of them is kind of dressed like me, except he’s wearing a skirt over his pants. I don’t have to think about the fact that they’re grinding and making these loud moaning noises. And I don’t have to think about all the people that are laughing so hard, they’re practically falling out of their seats in the back of the auditorium.

As much as I try not to think about those things, I can’t help myself, and the numbness sets in. I don’t remember sitting down, but suddenly, I’m squished in between two senior girls and somewhere in the back of my head is the knowledge that Abby and Taylor sprinted out of the auditorium.

I feel like I’m in a daze. And freaking Martin is sitting in the front row of the auditorium with his head in his hands as if this is his fucking tragedy. I don’t have it in me to feel bad for Martin. I don’t care if he suddenly feels guilty. He can go to hell.

We end up getting out of practice early because Ms. Albright has to go deal with them. Abby mentions that she has to wait for the late bus, which makes me feel guilty because, really, this is all my fault. Sure, Martin’s the asshole that outed me, but I checked my email on that computer. Everything that has happened, it all goes back to that one damned decision; everything that has happened is all my fault. I don’t want Abby to be by herself, so I go with her to watch Nick’s soccer practice.

I think it’s better than going home and moping until soccer practice is over. I really don’t want to do homework tonight, but I’m painfully aware that if I don’t, I’m going to look like a giant asshole; especially because I’d already agreed to it. 

Abby and I are standing at the fence when Nick, Garrett, and Bram run over. Despite Bram’s assurance that Garrett is not Blue, I can’t take my eyes off of Garrett. I think I’m looking for some sign that he’s hiding a huge secret, but I don’t see anything. There’s no indication that he’s anything but the same Garrett he’s always been.

Abby and Nick are giving each other the eyes, so Garrett, Bram, and I take a few steps away from each other. I love Nick and Abby, but it’s really uncomfortable how intensely Nick likes Abby. He’s always been like this. He falls hard, and he falls fast.

It occurs to me as this awkward silence falls that I may have never had a conversation with Garrett or Bram. I say the first thing that pops into my head. “It’s kind of weird that they make you audition when you played in the fall,” I say. I don’t know if it actually is. We have to audition for every play, but I feel like that’s different. The parts in different plays are very different; whereas, it seems to me like soccer is soccer.

“Audition?” Bram asks. He looks down a little with this shy smile on his face. I don’t expect the nervous tension, but I guess it makes sense. We’re both navigating uncertain waters right now.

“Uh… try out,” I correct. I try to smile, but it feels forced.

“It’s, like, mostly to see where we’re at right now,” Garrett explains. “And to get an idea of where he wants to put us.”

“What happens if you really screw up the try outs? Can you get kicked off the team?” I ask curiously.

“I doubt it,” Garrett says with a shrug.

“Coach knows us,” Bram adds. “So if we tank the…” he gets this really mischievous smile on his face and looks me right in the eye before he continues, “audition, it’s not the only thing he knows about how we play.”

I chuckle. It’s as close as I’ve gotten to a real laugh since Christmas, and I actually feel a little relieved. “That’s good.”

Their coach blows his whistle and Garrett takes off. I’m surprised when Bram doesn’t follow him. He shuffles uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” I say immediately.

“Are you sure? You seem… off. If this is about later…” he trails off.

“Huh?” It takes me a minute to understand what he’s saying and then I feel guilty. “Oh, no, no, no. This isn’t about you. Something happened at play practice,” I say quickly. I sometimes have so much trouble getting out of my head, and I forget that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. “I’m really looking forward to later.”

Bram raises his eyebrows at me, and I feel even more guilty because the lie is very obvious in my voice. It’s not even about Bram; I just want to wallow.

“Greenfeld!” his coach shouts.

“I think you’re being summoned,” I say quietly.

“One sec,” he calls back. He turns back to me. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, really. I want to. I swear. I’m just in my head about play practice. I’ll tell you later.” Abby walks over to us, and I don’t want to talk anymore. “You better get back. I’ll talk to you after practice.”

He hesitates until his coach shouts, “Greenfeld! Now!”

He runs back, and his coach looks livid. He points at the end of the field and Bram lines himself up with one of the lines on the field and starts doing this exercise where he sprints to the end of the field, then jogs back. He repeats it five times. I can see the exertion in the contours of his calves, and I feel like I’m experiencing secondhand calf-burns. I can’t look away. Who knew? Soccer calves.

I don’t notice that Abby’s looking at me until he rejoins his team. “What?” I ask.

“You and Bram?” she asks. Her eyes are wide, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at her.

I shake my head. “He wants to be friends,” I explain.

“Yeah. All this oggling seems like friendship,” she points out.

I think I’m blushing if the heat rushing to my cheeks is anything to go by. I don’t want to tell Abby about Blue. I don’t want anyone to know about Blue. I don’t know if anyone can really understand what it’s like to fall for someone this way, and I don’t want to open that can of worms. Without telling her about Blue, it’s really hard to explain to her why there’s not a chance in hell of Bram and I being something.

Except, there is, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. “He’s straight; even if I liked him, it isn’t going to happen.”

Abby looks disappointed. “Stupid straight guys,” she grumbles.

“Stupid straight guys,” I agree. My thoughts aren’t on Bram Greenfeld or his tantalizing calves. They’re on the football player from earlier – something Jacobs – and on the two kids in the back of the auditorium, and on all the assholes that decided to exploit this whole shitty situation.

“Did he tell you that?” I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, her question catches me off guard.

“Huh?” I ask.

“Did he tell you he’s straight?”

“Bram? I mean, not in so many words, but he implied it,” I tell her.

“If he didn’t say it, maybe he isn’t. And maybe he wants to get to know you as friends while he figures out his feelings, “ Abby points out.

“I promise, that’s not what’s happening.” I’m surprised when I almost feel wistful. I think it has more to do with the idea of knowing a boy likes me in person. As much as I know that Blue is a real person, he’s not going to be really real until we meet. One look at Abby and I know it’s a lost cause. “Look, I’ll tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone, okay? Not Nick. Not Leah. No one.”

“Of course,” she says.

“Bram’s friend likes me. I don’t know who he is, but it’s apparently really important to him that Bram and I are friends, or that we can at least get along before he tells me who he is,” I explain. I think it sounds harmless enough. It’s enough of the truth to get her off my back, but not so much that I feel like she’s going to make an overly big deal about it.

“Is it Garrett?” she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she’s looking at Garrett.

“That was my first question too. No, it’s not. At least, Bram says it’s not, and I believe him.”

Abby nods thoughtfully. “You have a secret admirer. This is so exciting,” she squeals.

I groan. “I really don’t want this to be a big deal. For all I know, he may decide he’s not ready to come out. I don’t want to get excited about something and then…”

I can’t find the words. Abby can. “And then end up crushed. I get that.” She sighs. I think it’s taking her an actual physical effort not to make a big deal about this.

“Will you tell me if it becomes something?” she asks.

“Of course,” I promise her.

We spend the rest of the practice in silence… well, I spend it in silence. Abby keeps a running commentary about soccer practice. She’s really freaking hilarious as she’s coming up with random, ridiculous names for their drills and dramatically describing the practice. It’s effortless, just like it was before this whole messy coming out thing.

Abby has to leave as the team is huddled together, but she kisses my cheek before she leaves. “Text me if you need anything,” she says quietly before she hitches her bag over her shoulder.

I’m grateful she’s gone because Bram runs over to me a minute later. “Ready?” he asks.

“Don’t you have to change?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I brought everything with me,” he tells me. There’s this weird look on his face and I wonder if I should ask. I don’t have the chance to. “Do you want to follow me to my house, or do you want to go to your place?”

Somehow, I never thought about going to my house. Things are still so complicated there and I know if I bring Bram home, they’re going to assume he’s my secret boyfriend and they’ll make him so uncomfortable. “Why don’t we do your house?” I ask. “That sounds easier.”

“Sounds good.” We’re silent as we walk to the parking lot. We’ve already talked more than we ever have before, and it seems that depleted Bram’s conversational toolbox. And I’m just not in the mood for small talk.

Bram lives in the opposite direction to the school than I do. He strictly follows the speed limit. I simultaneously think he’s the worst kind of driver and I’m a little envious of his patience. It’s not that I have an insatiable need for speed or anything like that. As my dad would say, I like to follow the flow of traffic.

“My mom won’t be home until later,” he says when I get out of my car. “I called her on our way here to let her know you were coming over. She got roped into a colleague’s surprise birthday party. She sounded thrilled.” He chuckles. “My mom loves her colleagues, but she’s not really a party person.”

I follow him up to his house and inside. He hesitates once we’re inside the doorway and then leads me to his living room.

“Is it later?” he asks quietly.

I’m surprised he remembered. I’d said I would talk about play practice later but that was because I hadn’t thought he would remember. Usually when I say later, it’s forgotten, and I get out of a complicated conversation. “Oh, it’s nothing.” I feel my dark mood drop back down on me. For a few minutes, I actually mentally escaped.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he says calmly. He pulls a textbook out of his bag. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but if you want to talk about it, you can.”

He flips through his book until he finds the page he’s looking for. “Did you hear about Amanda and Keith?”

“No. What happened?” I ask.

“They had a pretty epic showdown in Spanish class today. We were doing oral presentations.” I can’t help the snicker that escapes me. I laugh every single time my French teacher, Madame Blanc, says we’re doing oral presentations. It will never not be funny. “Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of the guys that laughs at that.”

“There are many sides to me.” I try to sound mysterious, but my voice is too shaky from repressing laughter for that to come through. “I’ve tried. I know it’s really immature, but I just find it so freaking funny.”

“Hey, you do you,” he says. His smile makes his face light up.

“What happened with Amanda and Keith?”

“I guess they broke up over winter break,” he tells me. “Senora Smith had us give presentations about what we did over break. Keith essentially called her crazy, so she slapped him and ran out of our classroom.”

“No way!” It’s pretty tame as far as their breakups go, but they usually don’t bring it into the classroom. They’ve been on-again-off-again since we were in middle school and they’ve had some pretty epic breakups. They broke up in the middle of the gym during a blood drive last year.

“Yeah and then she came back in and dumped her water bottle over his head,” he tells me.

“I can’t believe I didn’t hear about this,” I say.

“Yeah. Well,” he says with a shrug. There’s this weird look on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. I just think that maybe their fight was overshadowed by another thing today.” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, and I know what he means right away. It makes me feel nauseated.

“Yeah,” I say. I open my History textbook, but I’m not even sure if I’m on the right page.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I know today hasn’t been great for you,” he says quietly. He doesn’t close his book, but he pushes it aside and shifts so he’s facing me. 

“You can say that again,” I grumble.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m so freaking tired,” I say. “I’m tired of the shit people have been pulling. I’m tired of the attention. If one more person that I’ve never seen before tells me that they’re here for me, I might break my pacifist streak and punch them. I get that they’re trying to make me feel welcome, but the best way to do that would be to show me that this doesn’t change who I am, you know?”

Bram squirms uncomfortably. “I think this does change things, but it doesn’t have to be all bad. Maybe people just don’t want you to think you’re alone in this.” He’s looking at me nervously, as if he thinks he’s made me mad.

“I know. And part of me appreciates that. But when someone I’ve never talked to comes up and suddenly talks to me, it’s painfully obvious that it’s because I was outed. It’s out there. It’s never not going to be out there now. I just want it to stop being a big deal,” I explain.

“I get that,” he says. He looks thoughtful. “All these things keep happening that make it a big deal. Like whatever happened at rehearsal.”

It’s like the incident at play practice is beating against my skull. It’s fighting to get out. It’s pressing harder and harder and harder. I’m surprised that I want to talk about it but at the same time, the idea of talking about it makes me feel like I might actually throw up. “I don’t know if I can talk about it. It’s nothing about you. It’s like… no one really knows what it’s like to be outed the way that I was and to have it become this huge thing. I kind of feel like a chew toy.”

He looks down at his knees and for the first time, I notice the hole in his shorts. He’s nervously playing with it as he considers his words. I can’t look away. “You know, before I moved here, things at my old school were messy. Did I ever tell you why I play soccer?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’ve never heard the story.”

“When I was little, I was different,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t like the other kids in my grade. I liked to read and couldn’t stand watching movies or TV. I didn’t like playing the same things that they did. I preferred to play by myself. My dad signed me up for soccer because my kindergarten guidance counselor said I ‘lacked social skills’.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! You’ve always been perfectly friendly to me,” I tell him. At least, he’s never been unfriendly, and I’m going to count those two things as the same.

He looks at me skeptically. “Before today, how many conversations have we had?” he asks.

“Not many,” I admit.

“I get really nervous when I talk to people. Believe it or not, it’s a lot better now. I was so scared of people in kindergarten. I used to beg my mom to let me stay home, and once I got to school, it was like I lost my voice. It’s apparently really easy to pick on a kid when he can’t talk back. So, my guidance counselor had a point. When I started soccer, things changed. It didn’t happen right away because when you’re five the goal is to not score against your own team, but by the time I was in the third grade, I found my voice. Sort of. I could answer questions in class and carry a conversation if I needed to. It still scares me. Like telling you this? It’s terrifying. Soccer is the only time I feel… in control of my life. Like I don’t have to be scared of who I am.”

“Wow,” I say.

“Do you feel like I shouldn’t have told you all that?” he asks.

“No,” I say uncertainly. I’m not sure why he asked me that.

“Do you feel like I shouldn’t have told you that because there’s the chance that you don’t understand what it’s like to have what my mom and I are pretty sure is social anxiety?” he asks.

“No,” I tell him honestly.

“Do you feel like you were unable to feel empathy towards how I felt?” he presses.

Now I understand what he’s getting at. “No,” I reluctantly admit.

“Are you judging me or looking at me differently because of what I told you?”

I really think about that one. I do think of him differently, but I just feel more connected with him, like we might actually be friends. “Yes, but not in a bad way. It’s kind of nice to know this thing about you. It makes me feel like you trust me.” 

“I do. And maybe you have to trust me. Trust that even if I don’t know exactly what you’re going through right now, it doesn’t mean I can’t listen and empathize,” he says quietly. “I’m not trying to force you to share something you don’t want to, but I’ve spent my entire life holding myself back. There are so many times where I wish I had said what I really wanted to say.” 

There’s a long silence. I think this might be my opening to tell him what’s going on, but I’m still thinking about everything he told me. Plus, there’s this look in his eyes that makes me think that maybe he has something to tell me. He shakes his head. “Just trust me on this. You’ll regret the things you don’t say more than you’ll ever regret the ones you do.”

I don’t know about that. I’ve said a lot of stupid things over the years and once words are out, you can’t take them back. But maybe he has a point. I think about how I missed the chance to come out to Nick and Leah on my own terms and how much I regret that. I don’t think it’s always as cut and dry as that, but he might be onto something. Maybe it’s better to have to apologize for saying the wrong thing than to wonder what would have happened if you’d said the brave thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but… I just want to forget about it for a few hours. I don’t want to think about the fact that I got fucking outed and how my life is an unravelable ball of chaos right now. Can we just… I don’t know… talk about anything else. Like, what’s your favorite movie?”

It’s surprisingly easy to talk to him once we take that off the table. We’re able to talk about favorite movies, our families, our memories. Bram actually seems to loosen up a little bit too. Our homework remains forgotten until his mom gets home, and it’s only then that I realize how late it is.

“Thanks for this,” I say as I pack up. “I needed a normal night. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

He nods. “See you at school.”

I wonder if I should hug him. I feel like something important happened between us today, but I don’t want to overwhelm him. I can’t imagine it’s easy to talk about social anxiety, especially when you have social anxiety that’s probably telling you not to talk about social anxiety. My head is spinning a little bit. I make a mental note to ask my mom a little bit about it. So many kids talk about how anxious they are – I’ve thrown it around as well but hearing Bram talk about it felt different.

I awkwardly wave and say, “bye” as I leave.

When I get home, my parents have a million questions about Bram. It’s actually freaking infuriating. They’ve never asked if I was interested in Abby or Leah before I came out to them, but all of a sudden, because I’m gay, it’s a big deal that I have a new friend that’s a guy. Like, it’s so freaking unfair.

I manage to dodge most of their questions without being too snippy and escape to my bedroom at the first possible chance.

I barely manage to send Blue an email about how it’s snowing before I fall asleep. I’m just so drained.

Somehow, the next day is worse. I think it’s maybe because it’s still a big deal. I would love for news of some kind of scandal to break out. It’s probably cruel of me to wish that, but I’m so tired of the spotlight. I go straight home after play rehearsal on Tuesday and Wednesday, but Thursday after school, I spend some time with Bram again.

It feels a little more natural from the beginning. We talk about our favorite classes, our favorite hobbies, and our favorite teachers. I hesitate when he asks me about my favorite teacher because currently, I think it’s Ms. Albright. She really wants things to go well for me and it’s so freaking nice to know I have a teacher on my side. I’m nervous to actually say that out loud because I know I’ll need to explain what happened at play rehearsal, and I’ve done a really good job about avoiding that particular topic.

At the same time, I feel like I want to tell Bram. I don’t want to talk about it with my friends who are going to tell me exactly what I want to hear or with my family who will make it into a big deal. I want to talk about it with Bram; the kid who knows on some level what it’s like to feel scared of life.

I almost decide to tell him about Mr. Jones, my sixth grade Social Studies teacher. He was a phenomenal teacher and was the first person to treat me like I was valuable instead of just a student. Before I settle on Mr. Jones, Bram’s words from earlier in the week come back to me.  _ I’ve spent my entire life holding myself back. There are so many times where I wish I had said what I really wanted to say. _

I don’t want to hold myself back. I don’t want to regret starting a friendship by misleading him. “Can I tell you about what happened at play practice?” I ask instead of answering his question.

“Please,” he says softly. He gives me his undivided attention.

“I think maybe I’m making it into a bigger deal than it is,” I tell him. I’m not looking at him. “Like, maybe it’s really nothing, but I’m just being really sensitive because of everything that’s happened lately.”

“I feel like you’re trying to explain why you shouldn’t be as upset as you are,” Bram says quietly. “You don’t have to do that with me. It’s okay to be upset.”

I stare at him. How the hell did he figure that out? “What?” I ask.

“I used to do the same thing.” He shrugs. “It’s easier to plant the seed of what I want to hear; it makes something more bearable than if I have to accept someone’s genuine reaction.”

“You sound like my mom,” I tell him. “She’s a therapist and says all sorts of shit like that. Oh God, that sounded mean. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I prefer it coming from you. It doesn’t feel like you’re therapizing me.”

He shrugs. “I don’t find that insulting,” he says. He looks at me and I feel like I could get lost in his eyes. “I do find it to be your way to avoid talking about what happened at play practice.”

“Seriously, I think you found your calling,” I grumble. It dawns on me that maybe he really wants to know what happened. and not in a gossipy kind of way. I think he genuinely cares. It’s so strange to me because he barely knows me. Why should he care? “I will tell you but before I do, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” He looks at me curiously.

“Why do you care? Is it just because of Blue?” I ask. Bram shifts uncomfortably. I can almost see him putting on his mental armor. “I mean, we don’t really know each other all that well. I’m just trying to understand if Blue is the only reason that you’re making an effort, I guess.”

“No, no. Of course not,” he says sincerely. “I’ll admit, it started out that way. I only talked to you because of Blue. I think part of me thought it was going to be weird or awkward, but I was… surprised when I enjoyed hanging out with you as much as I did on Monday. I don’t usually feel that comfortable with people. It took Garrett and I months before I felt like I could tell him personal stuff. You’re really easy to talk to, and you’re different than I thought you’d be. You’re more like how Blue saw you and less how I saw you.”

I wonder if I should be insulted. “And how did you see me?”

He frowns. “I guess you could say I didn’t see you. You were just one of the kids that sat at my lunch table.” It’s so surreal to hear him refer to it as his lunch table. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were just like every other kid in our school.”

“I am like every other kid in our school,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No. You’re more real and… you’re kind. And whether this happened on your terms or not, you’re brave to show up at school with your head held high despite everything that’s waiting for you.”

I take a minute to think about that. I think Bram is giving me way too much credit. The silence stretches between us and I realize that I want to be brave. “These two kids made these posters,” I finally tell him. “One said, ‘how you doin’ Simon’ and the other…” I look down at his carpet, studying the individual pieces that come together. It’s soothing. “It said ‘what-what in the butt’. One of them was wearing fake glasses, a hoodie, and a skirt to mimic me and they were grinding.” I shrug. “Like I said. I overreacted.”

“I don’t think you overreacted. I think you should have been able to go to class and go to play rehearsal without anything happening. I’m sorry that happened to you. You don’t deserve that.”

Weirdly, I find myself believing him. Maybe I don’t deserve all of this. There’s a long silence and then Bram asks me what I got for one of the Algebra problems, so I quickly shuffle my stuff and actually start doing homework.

I think Friday is the worst. Maybe it’s because I know I’m just a few hours away from a mostly Creekwood free weekend. Other than play practice, I’m not going to have to talk to anyone that I don’t want to talk to.

Friday night, I hang out with Nick, Leah, and Abby at Waffle House. It’s exactly what I need. Leah and Abby mostly have their shit together. It’s just the usual amount of weirdness that always exists between them. It’s almost just like old times; except, I’m painfully aware that there’s this tension. As if we’re all walking on eggshells and putting pressure on the night to go well.

Saturday play practice is okay. We’re only two weeks away from our performance, so I think everyone’s a little on edge and is really taking it seriously.

After play practice, I go home and spend the rest of the weekend in glorious isolation. I usually love being around people, but God, I can’t even explain how nice it is to be by myself. I feel like it lets me hit a reset button.

That week at school, I feel like nothing can get me down. Even play practice with Martin is bearable because our school performance is on Friday, and there’s not a ton of downtime as we run through the scenes we’re performing. There’s not a lot of downtime in general.

I hang out with Bram after school on Monday and Wednesday. It still surprises me how much I love hanging out with him. While we mostly do homework, we find small opportunities to either multi-task or take small breaks from work. Monday, I talk to Bram about what it was like to come out to my family. I didn’t realize how much I was carrying the burden of that until I had someone to share it with. He recommends that I give them a chance and talk to them about what happened. I don’t know if I can do that, but he has a point. It’s not like I was super excited to be gay when I first realized it. It took me a long time to come to terms with that.

Wednesday, Bram opens up about his parent’s divorce and how frightening all the fighting was before that happened. I feel incredibly close with him. It’s almost flattering that he trusts me so much and makes me feel like I can trust him just as much.

Thursday, Bram comes up to me after lunch. “Hey, I’m having a little get together Friday night for my birthday,” he tells me. “It’s just going to be a few people. I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

“Your birthday is tomorrow?” I ask.

“It’s on Sunday,” he explains. “But it’s my dad’s turn for my birthday, so I’m leaving to see him on Saturday afternoon, and I won’t be back until Monday night.” Right. Divorced parents. I forgot. Bram had told me it was one of the reasons that he and Blue had hit it off. They both had parents that divorced and remarried. It was a relief when he told me that because I know for a fact that Garrett’s parents are still together; while I didn’t not trust Bram when he told me it wasn’t Garrett, I appreciated the definite confirmation.

“Oh cool,” I say. I start tapping my foot. The only thing I can think about is that Blue might be there. I’m not sure if I should say no, just so I won’t happen upon Blue’s identity. At the same time, I want to be there. Bram is pretty cool.

I wonder if he can see how nervous I am, because the next words out of his mouth are, “I hope it’s not weird that I’m asking you so late. I didn’t originally invite you because I didn’t want to risk that you’d find out who Blue is, but now he can’t come, and I’d really like you to be there. I would have invited you in the first place, but…”

“But you didn’t want it to be weird,” I finish for him. I don’t feel offended because he’s known Blue far longer than me. I wouldn’t expect to get an invite before Blue. “No, I get that. Thanks for thinking of that. I’ll be there. What time?”

“I’ll text you.”

I’m distracted the rest of the day. It’s kind of like once Blue is in my head, I can never get him out. I’m particularly off-balance during practice, which isn’t great since we are literally performing in front of the school tomorrow, so this is not the time to be slacking off. 

Cal comes up to me during one of our breaks. I expect him to have a message from Ms. Albright telling me to get my shit together or something, and I am pleasantly relieved when that isn’t it. “Hey,” Cal says. “Ms. Albright is working with Taylor on something, so I think we have a little free time.” It’s surprising to me that he is so calm right now, because he’s been a tense ball of stress during practice all year.

“Sounds good,” I say absent-mindedly. My mind is still spinning from Bram’s birthday invitation. I so desperately want to find a way to figure out if Cal knows Bram so I can figure out if he could be Blue, but I don’t know how to casually work that into a conversation.

“You look like you’re concentrating. That’s never a good sign,” Cal teases. I could have kissed him for giving me the perfect opening.

“Do you know Bram Greenfeld? His birthday is coming up,” I casually say; at least, I hope it’s casual. “I’m trying to think of a good gift to give him.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know him that well. You could get him… a soccer ball?” he suggests uncertainly.

I try not to let Cal see how disappointed I am. “Yeah. Maybe.” I can’t freaking believe it. For months, I’d thought Cal is Blue. Once I found out Bram was friends with Blue, I’d suspected he might not be, but I apparently did a very good job of repressing and avoiding that possibility.

“You know I’m bisexual, right?” he asks. He does it in such a casual way, it takes me a minute to fully understand what he said.

“Oh,” I say. Obviously not. I guess it’s nice that I haven’t imagined that he’s been flirting with me, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I was so sure he was Blue. Like, as sure as I could’ve been. And now? Now I have no clue.

“Maybe we could hang out sometime.”

I stare at him, scrambling for something to say. I am still reeling from the whole Cal-is-not-Blue thing and certainly cannot be expected to be remotely coherent right now. Fortunately, I’m saved because Ms. Albright calls for him and I can practically see him coil back into his stress mode. Even after he leaves, I am aware of Abby. She is staring at me with those big eyes as if she is certain there is something between me and Cal. I don’t have it in me to talk to her about it and explain that Cal definitely isn’t the kid I like.

When we get out of play practice, I text Bram to see if he wants to hang out. It will be our third time this week, which is probably excessive; especially considering that I’ll also be seeing him tomorrow. But I need someone to distract me, and I know that Abby has probably already texted Nick and Leah, so I’m not going to get an adequate distraction from them. Plus, I really like hanging out with Bram. Maybe it’s because he is quiet or because he knows exactly the right amount to push me if I’m reluctant to talk about something, but I don’t feel on guard when I am with him.

When I get to Bram’s, I actually feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t talk about it. I plop myself on the sofa in his living room. I’d thought I was looking for a distraction, but I think I’m actually looking for someone to listen. “If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell Blue?”

“What’s wrong?” Bram asks.

I sigh. “There’s something that I really want to talk about, but I don’t want it to get back to Blue because I think he’d get really upset if I couldn’t explain this to him in person.”

“You can trust me. What’s going on?”

“I thought I knew who Blue was,” I admit. “I thought he was this kid I’m in the play with, and I found out today that it’s not him because he asked me out. I wasn’t even excited to find out he’s bi and interested in me. I just felt… so freaking disappointed. It’s not even that I wanted Cal to be Blue. I just want to know who I’m talking to, you know?” I groan. “I just… this sucks man. No offense to Blue, but it’s so unfair that he knows who I am, and I have no clue who he is. At least when Blue could have been Cal, he was a person. Now? It’s kind of like I can’t even appreciate it when someone’s interested because I’m waiting for someone that might never be ready. Am I crazy?”

“You’re not crazy,” Bram says. He’s stiff and looks… almost angry.

“Shit. I’m sorry if it was weird for you to hear that. I know Blue’s your friend and I’m sure you’ve heard his reasons for not telling me who he is. I didn’t mean to make this weird. You’re just… really easy to talk to. Please don’t be mad,” I ramble.

“Okay,” he says. He still has this weird look on his face. “Thank you for telling me. I think it makes a lot of sense that you’d be upset with Blue. He has been stringing you along.”

That is exactly what I said in my last email to Blue! I guess great minds think alike. “Exactly,” I say. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about Blue or that I’ll wait. As long as he needs me to.”

Bram relaxes just a little bit. “It doesn’t?” he asks.

“Of course not,” I assure him. “It’s not like I like Cal. I thought I did when he might be Blue but that disappeared the moment I found out he wasn’t. I just want to know that Blue and I are going to meet at some point.”

“I can promise you that he’s getting really close to that,” Bram tells me. “He’s just really scared. But he cares a lot about you, and he would be devastated if he knew how much his secrecy was hurting you. He’s not trying to be malicious. He’s just being cautious.”

“I get that,” I assure him. “I don’t want him to do anything until he’s ready.”

Bram chews on his lip for a moment and then shakes his head as if he’s clearing his thoughts. “Thanks for telling me. Really. I appreciate that you trusted me with something like this. Do you feel better now that you talked about it?” he asks.

I really think about his question. “Yeah, I do,” I say. “I think I’ve been trying to hide how I’ve felt about Blue because I didn’t want to put you in a weird position, but it felt really good to actually talk about it. And to hear that he does plan to tell me who he is at some point.” I actually feel like I can breathe again for the first time since I was outed. 

We fall into a comfortable silence. We’re doing homework. Well, I’m mostly thinking about what I should do for his birthday, but some homework is getting done. I have no clue what to get him, so I decide to just ask. “Hey, what do you want for your birthday?”

“Honestly, nothing. I’m just really happy to be able to spend some time with my friends,” he tells me.

Well, that is the opposite of helpful. I spend another hour with Bram and manage to get one tiny tidbit out of him that would be helpful for a birthday gift. I make a pitstop at Publix before I go home.

The play goes really well the next day. The energy is really high and I’m kind of loving the attention my makeup is bringing me. It’s good attention, which I tell myself is such a contrast to what I’m used to. I deserve to enjoy this.

“You need to keep this on for the party tonight,” Abby tells me as she’s touching up my make-up after lunch.

“Huh?” I ask uncertainly.

“Bram’s party. I’m going with Nick. I just assumed you were invited because the two of you have practically been attached to each other lately,” she points out.

“Oh, right. Yeah, no. I’ll be there.”

“Looking like this. There’s not a guy at that party that will be able to resist you,” she teases.

I don’t answer. I still haven’t told her about Blue, so I definitely can’t tell her that the only guy that matters won’t be there.

Abby volunteers to be the designated driver, so I walk to Nick’s house and she picks us up from there.

When we get to the party, there are a couple of cars already lined up on the street. Bram greets us as we come in. He gives all three of us a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Abby and I look at each other surprised. I’ve never seen Bram like this. “Can I assume you’re a little drunk?” Abby asks.

“Garrett insisted on a birthday shot,” Bram explains.

“You’re like this after a single shot?” Abby asks, raising her eyebrows.

“And two rum and cokes,” Garrett says as he materializes with two red solo cups. He hands one to Bram. “Cheers. Apparently Greenfeld is trying to work himself up for some declaration of love.”

Bram looks at Garrett and shakes his head rapidly. “Shhh!” I don’t think he realizes how loud he’s being. I feel a pang of jealousy. He’d never mentioned any girl to me. Not that he had to. I just would have thought that he would have told me.

“Do you want something to drink?” Bram asks.

“I’ll have whatever,” Nick says.

“Same,” I say with a shrug. 

Bram and Garrett disappear, and we find seats in the living room. It’s so unnatural to me to see other people in here. I’m so used to it just being me and Bram in this space.

Garrett brings us both rum and cokes. “Sorry. I don’t think I heard what you said,” he told Abby.

“I didn’t say anything. I’m DDing, so water would be great,” she says.

“One water, coming up,” he promises.

It’s actually kind of nice. It’s more people than I’m used to, but it’s really lowkey. The time flies by. Garrett seems hell bent on keeping everyone drunk. The moment I finish a drink, he’s quick to replace it. The alcohol hits me pretty hard. After two and a half drinks, I decide to cut myself off because my world is starting to spin uncomfortably. I had a beer on Halloween and had gotten pretty tipsy from that, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Other than the spinning, this feeling is actually pretty nice. I feel strong and like anything is possible.

Something tells me that this is my moment. I stand up and look around to find Bram. I don’t see him, so I wander until I find him in his bedroom. He’s alone and looks upset about something. I sit down next to him. “Are you okay?” I ask.

He nods. “I’m fine.” His voice sounds like he’s choking on something.

“Are you sure? That’s not your ‘I’m fine’ voice,” I point out. I expect the alcohol to slur my speech, but I feel like I sound remarkably coherent.

He nods. “I just thought I was going to be able to do something tonight, but it was too much for me. I guess I’m still not ready.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” I tell him. I’m pretty sure that he’s talking about whatever girl Garrett was referring to earlier. “It’s your birthday. You have to be nice to yourself.” He chuckles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he says with a shrug. “I should be getting back out there. I just needed a minute. I really am fine.”

He doesn’t stand up. “Hey, I got you something.” Hopefully this will make him feel better. I pull the container out of my drawstring bag and hand it to him. 

He carefully unwraps it and his eyes widen. “Is this?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” I finish for him. “My mom and I made them last night. We had a long talk while they were baking. You were right, you know. About giving her a chance. Anyway. The cookies. You told me about how your parents used to make you chocolate chip cookies with your birthday breakfast, but they haven’t done that since the divorce.” I’m starting to think I made a mistake because he’s not reacting at all. “You don’t need to eat them. I just wanted to do something special for your birthday.”

“This is perfect,” he says. It’s only then that I realize his silence stems from how touched he is. He puts the container aside and gives me a hug. “Thank you so much. You’re a great friend.”

I melt into his embrace. In the back of my mind, it registers that we’re hugging longer than we should, but I don’t care. It makes me feel like I’m flying.

When he pulls back, he only does it a little bit. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s how good he smells or the alcohol or how comfortable I am with him, but suddenly, I kiss him. It’s everything I thought a kiss would be. I’m aware of everything: the swirling of my stomach, how soft his lips are, how loud my heart is beating, the slightly rugged feeling of his cheek.

Part of me registers that he’s not pushing me away, but as my senses return, I’m pretty sure that the only reason he doesn’t push me away is because he is in shock. I pull back and I feel like I’m in this weird euphoric daze until I realize exactly what I just did and how much of a colossal idiot I am.

“Oh my God,” I say. I jump up and walk backwards towards his door. “I’m so freaking sorry. I’m gonna go.”

I run out of his room. I don’t give a second look to see what he’s doing. I just need to get home. I find Abby. “Can you drive me home?”

“Now?”

“Please Abby. I need to get out of here.” My emotions catch up with me in that exact moment and my voice cracks. I’m starting to cry and Abby ushers me out of Bram’s house and into her car. She sends a text, I assume to Nick, before she starts to drive.

“What happened?” she asks concerned.

“I kissed Bram,” I say softly. “I’m such a freaking idiot. We were doing great as friends, and I had to go ruin it.”

“Oh, wow,” Abby says. “What did he say?”

“He just looked… shocked,” I tell her. “It’s all my freaking fault. I shouldn’t have let myself like him like that. I knew he was straight. I knew he was just trying to be my friend because of the kid I like. And now? I probably ruined it with Blue as well.”

Abby comes to a stop at a red light. “Who the hell is Blue?” she asks.

I figure things are over with Blue, so what’s the point of hiding it? I tell her everything. Nothing that would give any insight into who Blue is. He’s going to be so upset with me; I don’t want to add insult to injury and potentially reveal who he is.

It’s not until I’m done talking that I realize that Abby’s not driving me home. “Where are we?”

“I’m killing time until Nick’s ready to go home,” she explains. “He’s going to call me when he’s ready.”

“Are the two of you ever going to start dating?” I ask. I close my eyes and lean my head against the cool glass of her window. It feels really good.

“Uh… what?” Abby asks.

“You two clearly like each other. You’re so lucky,” I tell her. I sigh. “You don’t know what it’s like to like someone this much and know that they’ll never like you back.”

“Are we still talking about Blue?” she asks.

I open my eyes but find the lights speeding by disorienting, so I close them again. “I don’t even know anymore. All the months I was emailing Blue, I never thought I could like another guy. But then Bram comes along and he’s so freaking perfect, it’s not even fair. I tried to tell myself it was just because he was so nice and that it’s because I had the chance to get to know him in person instead of over email, but Abby? I really like Bram. I don’t want to. I don’t want to like two people at the same time. And…” I shake my head. “Nevermind.”

“Are you afraid that you don’t?” Abby asks quietly. “Like two people at the same time, I mean. Are you afraid that maybe you only like Bram?”

“A little,” I admit. “I thought I loved Blue. Like, really thought I was in love with him. And then freaking Bram. This is really all his fault.”

“Screw Bram,” Abby says. I look over at her, and I can see she’s smiling.

I can’t help but laugh. “No, it’s not really his fault. I never should have let myself like him.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works. For the record, I’m sorry that he’s not gay, and I’m sorry you feel this way. You really deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “And I guess you’re right. You can’t make yourself like someone anymore than you can make yourself not like someone. I wish fucking Martin had gotten the memo.”

“What does Martin have to do with this? Oh my God. Does he like you?”

“Hell no,” I say. “I don’t think you blackmail someone you like.”

I hear her blinker before I fully understand that she’s pulling over. She puts her car in park and looks livid. “He fucking blackmailed you? Is he the one that wrote that post?”

She looks so furious, and I don’t fully understand why. It’s not like he outed her. Though, he did try to get her to like him, but she doesn’t even know that. “He liked you. He told me that I needed to get the two of you to spend more time together or he’d out me. And then you rejected him, so he did. Out me that is.” It dawns on me that it might sound like I’m placing blame. “Not that it’s your fault. You didn’t like him and that’s totally fine. He never should have tried to get you to like him in the first place. It wasn’t fair to you. And I’m so freaking sorry that I let him try. I should have been braver. I shouldn’t have given in to him. Are you mad?”

“I don’t know.” She’s gripping her steering wheel as if it’s her lifeline and is staring straight ahead.

“I really am so sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to have roped you into this. None of this would ever have happened if I hadn’t checked my email from a school computer. This is all my fault.”

It’s several minutes before she speaks. I know the alcohol is starting to wear off because I’m losing the overly emotional sensation, and I’m starting to get really tired. “This is not your fault,” she tells me. “I don’t think I’m mad at you. I think I’m just furious with Martin. I can’t believe he’d be such an asshole. I actually thought he was funny, and I wanted to be friends with him. I told him that when he asked me out. That I didn’t like him that way, but I did like him like a friend. I’m so sorry that he outed you and put you through all of this. You didn’t deserve that.” She sighs and shifts so she’s facing me a little more. “Part of me thinks that I should be mad at you. I didn’t deserve to have you mess with my love life. But you didn’t deserve to be put in that position in the first place. You didn’t deserve to get blackmailed and outed. My thing seems kind of inconsequential compared to that. I still love you, you know, and I’m here. Whatever you need. If you need to talk about Bram or Blue. If you just need to sit in silence. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thanks,” I say softly. 

Her phone dings. She glances at it. “Nick’s ready. I can tell him to get another ride,” she says.

“No, it’s fine. Pick him up. And drop me off first. I know I don’t have any right to interfere in your love life… again, but the two of you need to talk. You have this chance at something really great,” I tell her.

She smiles. “You really think he likes me?”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve known Nick for a long, long time. He likes you,” I assure her.

We’re silent as we drive back to Bram’s house. I sink down in my seat when I notice Bram is standing with Nick. I don’t know if Bram sees me, but he must not because he doesn’t look upset to see Abby. Nick gets in behind her and we’re off.

“Thanks,” I whisper to Abby when she pulls into my driveway. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I wink at her and she chuckles. I intentionally leave the passenger door open, so Nick has to get out and sit next to her.

I walk inside. I’m surprised when my parents are still awake. “Hey, how was the party?” my mom asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m really tired,” I tell her.

“Hold up.” My mom walks over to me and looks surprised. “Have you been…” I mentally steel myself. I didn’t think I was drunk when I walked into my house, but now I’m second guessing myself. “Crying.”

I could almost cry again at the relief that she doesn’t realize I’ve been drinking.

“Sort of. Can we not talk about this now? I just want to take a shower and go to sleep.” My mom hesitates. She looks like she’s trying to figure out the right thing to do. “I promise that I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay, we’ll talk in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you too.” I practically run up the stairs. I spend forever in the shower and then succumb to sleep.

I wake up late to a missed call and text message from Bram. The text just says to call him. I ignore it. Instead, I focus on the text from Abby. She wants to know if I want to get lunch. I look at my clock and I’m shocked when I see it’s almost noon.

I call Abby. “Still down for lunch?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m at Nick’s. I can come pick you up. When will you be ready?” she asks.

“I’m ready whenever. I just have to get dressed.” I fully process her words at that moment. “Did you say you’re at Nick’s?”

“Yeah. We can talk about that at lunch. I’ll be there in five,” she tells me.

Lunch is freaking amazing. Maybe it’s because I finally opened up to her about everything, but I feel so at peace as we eat. Abby tells me all about how she and Nick finally got together and I’m so happy that things are working out for her. And incredibly jealous, but I’m trying to suppress that part.

It’s not until she’s driving me home that my moods dips and everything from the night before resurfaces.

“You know, Nick mentioned that Bram asked about you last night. He was worried about you,” Abby says slowly as she’s driving me home.

I sigh. “Can we please not talk about this?” I ask. “I just need some time to figure things out.”

“But…”

“But what? I fucked up. I have to figure out how to get over these feelings for Bram and if there’s any way to apologize and move past this so we can still let us be friends. I need to do that on my own,” I tell her.

“Okay. But just so you know, I think he will forgive you. He’d be crazy to let you go.”

I shrug. I think she maybe tries to draw me into conversation after that, but it’s useless.

I spend the rest of the long weekend in my bedroom. I only leave for meals. I write and delete and write and delete email after email to Blue, but nothing seems adequate enough. I don’t even know how to explain what happened. If he emailed me and told me he had feelings for another guy, I would be furious and hurt. If he told me he kissed that same guy? I don’t even know how I’d feel.

Tuesday comes too quickly. When I get to class, there’s a seat open next to Bram on the couch. I intentionally choose a desk on the opposite side of the classroom because it’s easier than figuring out what to say to him. 

I know I’m a coward. I skip lunch because I’m not ready to deal with this, so outside of class, the next time I see Bram is when he’s waiting outside the auditorium after school. 

“We really need to talk,” he says.

I sigh. I know he’s right. “I have to get to play practice.”

“Then come over after that,” he suggests. “I don’t want to wait to talk about this.”

“Fine,” I say.

“I’ll see you after practice,” Bram says. “Have fun.”

I watch him as he walks away, my heart feeling heavy.

“You and Greenfeld look like you’re getting along really well,” Martin comments. I hadn’t even seen him, but he seems to have a sixth sense for when I don’t want to see him… or maybe I just never want to see him. It’s one of the two.

“And?” I ask, my voice dripping with hostility. It’s still a sensitive subject. Sure, Bram asked to see me after school, but I’m not unconvinced that he’s not going to tell me we can’t be friends anymore because I got drunk and kissed him.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I think it’s great that you’ve moved on from Blue.” Martin is wearing this shit eating smile that I wish would disappear along with him. We walk into the auditorium.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “I know a crush when I see one. I think it’s cute. So, is he gay?”

No and it is for the best. This freaking crush is really inconvenient. I keep telling myself that it’s just because Bram is so sweet and kind, but I’m starting to get scared that I actually have feelings for him. It makes my head hurt to think about it, so I push those thoughts away. I’m not about to tell Martin any of that. “Just back off, will you? I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Who pissed in your Cheerios today?” He has this dopey, confused look on his face and I lose it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I am starting to become aware that we have an audience, but I don’t care. I am so over this. So over pretending that the very sight of him doesn’t repulse me. “Martin, we’re not friends. Do you understand what you did? Do you understand that a half-assed apology isn’t enough to make up for the fact that you fucking blackmailed me? And then outed me? Just because I couldn’t get Abby to freaking date you? I am not your fucking friend. I am the kid whose life you tried to freaking ruin. You found my personal emails. Emails where I specifically talked about how hard it would be to come out, and your first thought was to use that to get what you want. I am a human being, and I deserved better. I am not going to forgive you for that, so leave me the fuck alone!”

My face feels so hot, like I am in danger of actually catching on fire and I know I need to get out of here. It doesn’t help that Martin is looking at me with wide eyes that make me feel like I am the one that did something wrong, which is freaking ridiculous.

I’ve never skipped play practice, but I hoist my bag further up my shoulder and walk out of the auditorium without saying another word. I text Bram to let him know that I’m not going to make it over. I just can’t deal with this right now. I know that I ruined our friendship, but we haven’t had that talk yet. All I want to do is exist in the world where Bram is my friend for one more night.

I go straight to my bedroom, lock my door, grab my headphones, and play music loud enough to drown out the rest of the world once I get home.

I don’t do my homework – it’s the first day back, so I feel like expectations are probably low. I think about texting Bram to explain why I cancelled on him, but I’ve been doing a really great job avoiding him since his birthday party. Part of me knows I can’t keep putting off the inevitable, but I feel like I might actually explode if I have to deal with this tonight.

I get a text from Martin around 5, telling me that I got him “fucking suspended” because I “lost my shit” on him. Apparently blackmailing me and outing me with the intention of causing humiliation is against our code of conduct. I don’t answer him, but I do feel a little bad for getting him suspended. How fucked up is it that he’s the one that blackmailed me and outed me, and I’m the one that feels bad because he got in trouble?

I sleep through my alarm the next morning and ended up rushing to English without my books. I finally make it to my locker for the first time before lunch. When I open my locker, a note flutters to the ground. I grab the books I need for my afternoon classes and grab the note. I read through it, and it’s like my entire world stands still. I know my heart is racing, but I hear each thump slowly. I’m frozen and for a split second, I feel joy unlike any I’d ever experienced before. And then it’s gone. This is too good to be true.

The first day after break, I’d feared I was going to see a very ugly side of Bram and this just confirms it. I slam my locker shut. The sound echoes down the empty hallway. My mind is on one thing as I walk towards the cafeteria.

Bram hears me before he sees me, but I don’t care. I’ve never been so angry in my life. “Abraham freaking Greenfeld.”

There is a silence that falls around me as I storm towards him; at least, I like to think I storm toward him. He turns upon hearing his name. 

The smile disappears from his face as he takes in my expression. “Simon. What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Do you have to freaking ask? What? Was all of this some sick joke? Did you find out about Blue from fucking Martin?” I seethe. “You thought, oh Simon hasn’t been through enough. He’s recently been outed against his will. Let’s take away the only person that makes him feel remotely human, right?”

“Simon.”

I’m not ready to hear whatever excuse he is about to give me. “I get it. I was vulnerable and you thought, what? That I was so desperate I would let anyone in? I trusted you! I talked to you about things that I’ve never talked to anyone about... not even Blue. I told you about coming out and what that was like with my family. I took your freaking advice. And for what? What’s your fucking plan? Are you going to post the shit I told you to creeksecrets? Are you going to tell everyone that I got drunk and I kissed you?” I hear indistinct whispering, but it may as well be happening in a different cafeteria in a different high school in an entirely different world. I don’t have it in me to think about it right now. “Or do you and Martin have something bigger planned?”

He opens his mouth and I realize that nothing he could say would make a difference. Part of me wishes I was a fighter because I feel like it would do me some good to channel my anger into a punch or something right now. It’s also hitting me that I’m doing this in the middle of the cafeteria. As the humiliation sets in, I snap, “just stay the fuck away from me.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I run out of the cafeteria before I can cry in front of half the school.

I don’t realize Bram followed me out until I let out an aggravated groan in the hallway. “What the hell was that about?” he asks. I snort. Like he needs to ask. What? Was he going to keep up his innocent act? He played his cards; it didn’t work; I’m not going to let it work. “Simon, I meant what I wrote in that note.”

I scoff. “Sure you did. I’m sure that you’re just so in love with me that you needed to tell me you were Blue, right? And that for the last three weeks, you were trying to find out if we could be friends before we were boyfriends.”

Bram is looking down at the floor. He almost looks angry. “Why? Why do you think it’s so impossible for me to be Blue? Do you not want it to be me that desperately?”

“You’re good, I have to give you that. Persistent.” I lean against the locker behind me and cross my arms, hoping that they will hold me together.

“You’re not answering my question.”

“It can’t be you,” I repeat.

“But why? Why can’t it be me?” he demands.

“Because I want it to be you!” I shout. “And Martin fucking found out yesterday, and I got him suspended, so I know this has something to do with him. There’s no way that’s a coincidence. Have you been in on this from the beginning? Or does he have something on you?”

“You want it to be me?” he asks like he can’t believe the words.

“I think I made that really obvious at your party,” I point out. “Is that why you’re doing this? Are you trying to prove a point? Is this your way of messing with me because I showed you that I like you?”

Suddenly, he kisses me. I am too surprised to react, and I get the idea that he is as taken aback as I am. Less than a second later, he is rambling. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

No, he probably shouldn’t have. Except, he absolutely should have because I am still tingling all over from a one-second kiss. How is it possible that I can feel this way after a kiss?

The embarrassment he clearly feels, and the spontaneity of the kiss are causing me to consider that maybe this isn’t some convoluted prank.

There is always the possibility that my original jock-group-message prank has just unfolded, but part of me doesn’t think so. I don’t know if it’s the fog that hasn’t yet cleared from my brain after the kiss or how desperately I want there to be another, but I want to believe him. 

I want to, but something is holding me back. This is too perfect. It can’t be possible.

“How do I know that you’re not just messing with me?” I ask. “How do I know that Martin didn’t show you the screenshots of my emails?”

Bram frowns. “Martin screenshotted your emails? When?” he asks.

“October,” I say with a shrug.

“Okay. Then ask me anything from after that.”

I frown. That isn’t a terrible idea. “Why don’t you eat fried Oreos?”

“I ate them before riding a tilt-a-whirl once. It didn’t end well,” he answers without skipping a beat. Except, I can’t remember if we talked about that before or after Martin read my emails.

“What life-altering news did you recently receive?” There’s no way he can know that if he isn’t Blue.

“Other than this whole thing?” he confirms. I nod. “My stepmom is pregnant. She’s going to have a baby in June.” He’s really Blue.

“One more question. Why didn’t you just tell me you were Blue? Why did you pretend you were friends with him?” It’s part of the reason that I am having trouble believing he’s Blue. It seems like such a not-Blue thing to do.

“I was going to. Until I saw Connor in the hallway. I’d had this whole thing planned about how I wanted you to know you weren’t alone, and I wanted to be there for you. Once I saw him, I couldn’t get the words out. I don’t remember actually choosing to say I was friends with Blue. I think it was just the first excuse I could think of that would justify us spending time together,” he admits. “And once it was out, I couldn’t take it back. There were so many times I almost told you, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I came out to Garrett last week, and he’s the one that suggested I have a birthday party, so I could ‘hype’ myself up to tell you, but even then, I still couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry.”

“It was a really shitty thing to do,” I tell him.

“The shittiest,” he agrees.

I sigh. “This isn’t how I pictured this happening. I thought when I met Blue, it would be this freaking magical moment.”

“Tell me about that,” he requests.

“I don’t know. I just figured we’d not be in school and we’d be able to be alone and talk. We’d figure everything out. Whether we wanted to be boyfriends and how we wanted to tell our families.” I glance back towards the cafeteria. I have a feeling people are still talking about my outburst. I’d bet some people think I’ve gone crazy. “Or whether we wanted to be out at school.”

“Then let’s do it,” he says. “We still have over 30 minutes left of lunch.”

He ends up driving us to the little convenience store that’s down the street from our school. In less than five minutes, we have sandwiches and we’re back in his car. He parks on the side of the street so we’re not in a crowded parking lot. I don’t touch my sandwich. Neither does he. “Can you forgive me?” he asks quietly.

“Of course,” I tell him. “Honestly, I think it’s hitting me that this is real, and now, I’m too happy to feel upset with you. Can you forgive me? For not believing it was you?”

He takes my hand and it feels warm and comfortable. “Yes,” he says simply. “I should have told you who I was from the beginning. These last couple of weeks have been the best of my life. I didn’t think it would be this easy to fall in love with you, but it was. I fell in love with your sense of humor, how excited you got when I opened up to you, how you trusted me in return. I’ve always been my own worst enemy. I repress more things than I actually end up saying out loud, but you make me feel brave. You make me want to stop worrying about the future and instead, live in this moment. I love you.”

I actually think I might be able to fly right now. I expect these feelings to lift me right out of his little car. “I love you too.”

I lean into him and we have our first real kiss. I’m not kissing him because alcohol made my brain a little too fuzzy. He’s not kissing me because he’s terrified that I’m going to walk away. Stripping away those things makes this kiss feel so much more intense. I’m pretty sure my heart is on some kind of rollercoaster, and I can practically feel his heartbeat through our kiss.

In that moment as we’re kissing in his warm car and we’re filled with so much love, it’s easy to forget about all the bad things that led to this moment or all of the challenges we’ll inevitably face in the future. Instead, I focus on this moment that we have claimed for our own.


End file.
